loose threads
by TenTenD
Summary: For the moment, they can pretend all is well.


Unlike the taste of desperation which lingered upon her tongue as they'd made their goodbyes, unlike the hopefulness budding in a strong shower of heart-poundingly ineffectual rain, the kiss Martin bestowed upon her lips carried curious desire and timid affection. It was difficult at times to reconcile that side of him with the other, harsher half. Simone wrapped her arms around him gently, testing, tasting. They didn't have long; they never did. Nevertheless, it was nice. He shifted her gently. It would be a lie to say she had much experience. It would also be a lie to say she remained uninterested. But Martin never quite crossed the line.

* * *

His hand rested on hers. Simone did not move. He did it from time to time, moved from his spot to lie at her side, or her back, whichever the case. Their companions ignored it. Martin's breath fanned against the back of her neck, gentle, comforting, letting her know he was there. It was enough. It had to be. How strange, though, that for all the boys she's known in her life, he was the one to captivate her as he did. At her back Martin pressed closer until his lips brushed against her nape. She sighed contently, keeping as still as she could.

* * *

It's such a nicely appointed house. Simone admires the structure. Even in its decaying state it holds some of its prior glory. She looks away long enough to see Rasmus at one of the windows. He'd sleeping alone these days, away from them, but never far enough that they lost sight of him. She hated that she could no longer draw close to him. Her brother's eyes met hers. Simone smiled, for his benefit. Rasmus merely lowered his gaze. That was fine though. She couldn't expect that all things would stay the same.

"Are you coming in or what?" her gaze snapped to Martin standing in the doorway.

* * *

Bunkers did make her sick. Not enough to lose the contents of her stomach though. And it was better now that she has Martin. The door creaked and for a moment fear spiked to life within her. "Simone?" She opened her eyes and smiles, wondering how he meant to have a conversation with her without waking Lea.

Martin motioned her over. She didn't even consider refusing and before she knew it, they were pressed against the wall just outside the bathroom. This time he cupped one of her breasts as his lips move against hers. "Martin." He squeezed gently, giving her lower lip a light nip.

* * *

"It's okay." It was only a whisper, meant as encouragement, or at least as agreement. She liked the warm feeling of his hand moving beneath her shirt. "It's okay." Somehow the sound was even fainter as he caught her nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting gently. His other hand rested on her hip, its relaxed grip contrasting with the taunt muscles moving against her back. Sometimes she wondered what he would do if she reached back for him. No matter how much she enjoyed his though, there was always something holding her back. One of these days she would touch him as well.

* * *

Lilla Bjärred was much the same as they'd left it. Martin and Patrick had cleaned out the woman's body and they'd buried it, decomposed though it had been. She and Lea had begun cleaning out the bunker, trying to find anything which would be on use. There was medicine, some seeds and clothes. Women's clothes. They were too large for either herself or Lea, but they'd do in a pinch.

"I can keep the boys amused for the evening," Lea offered. She held out a small pack of cards. Simone blushed, very much aware of what Lea offered. She nodded her head in acceptance. "I knew you'd do that."

"It's not what you think."

* * *

It probably was precisely what Lea thought of. The old building had a few rooms which could be used without fear of tainted water seeping through. It was one of the lower floors, after all. Simon looked out the window. She could see her brother out there, gazing at some point far ahead.

Arms banded around her waist, pulling her backwards. "He'll be fine." She wanted to believe it, she truly did. But the more she looked at Rasmus, the more her doubt grew. "Have some faith."

"I don't know." Simone hated how the words came out, all tremulous and uncertain. "I just can't tell any longer."

* * *

Even with the mask firmly in place, she feared approaching him. Rasmus looked at her with a blank stare, the empty blue of his eyes painful to witness. "We'll find a way. But you have to help us. Beatrice would not have wanted–"

"She didn't want to die." The words were angry. "Beatrice was so frightened. You don't know anything." She held her hands up in a placating gesture. Rasmus shook his head. "Don't speak to me about what Beatrice would have wanted."

Simone found herself nodding, backing away gently. "Don't stay out here too long. It's nearing sundown." Would they ever mend the fences?

* * *

"It's nice here." It was just the two of them, sitting on an old couch. Martin had his arm draped over her shoulder. "I could grow used to it." They'd planted some seeds inside the bunker. But there was not much to do and at the moment she could think of little that she wanted more than this. "Martin?"

He made an inquiring noise. Simone shifted until she'd managed to bring her front against his side. She brought her lips against the side of his face, peppering light kisses wherever she reached. He turned his head slightly, locking their lips together. "Tease."

* * *

"Are you scared of it?" Lea held her hand. Simone took a moment to consider the question before she hesitantly shook her head. "A little bit then?" She nodded. Simone didn't know how to put it into words.

"I just feel as though there would be no going back." Lea nodded encouragingly. "I haven't even had a proper boyfriend before the rain came, you know."

"Never?" The mild surprise on her friend's face was heartening.

"I'd just been asked out when father dragged me away." And he was dead. A boy whose face she could barely remember. All of them dead.

"Bummer."

* * *

The sharp gaze pierced right through him. Martin knew a challenge when he saw one. Without the shadow of a doubt, he had on his hands such an occurrence. Of all times for it to spark as well. "Well?" he goaded the boy. He was Simone's brother, but boundaries would not bow to that.

"I don't want my sister to end up like her." He rarely if ever said her name. In some ways it was easier to deal with Beatrice's ghost if one did not name her. "She deserves better."

"Then you'd best take note of your own words." He itched for a smoke, as he always did in such moments.

* * *

"Don't take it to heart." Simone held his face between her palms. Her hands were cold and slightly damp from washing dishes. "He's not himself." Martin did not contradict her. Instead, he placed his hands on her hips, balancing her gently as she leaned in. "I'm sorry."

"It's no fault of yours." It was that damnable regret clinging to him. He wanted to let Beatrice go. Truly, he did. But with Rasmus acting as a living, breathing reminder, he had the weight of it pressing firmly on his shoulders.

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, her manner oddly motherly. He was barely able to appreciate that she'd initiated contact.

* * *

"Water's still boiling," Lea says, the smile on her face widening slightly. Jean, sitting on a chair with a book in hand, gave her a look. For his part Martin looked between the two of them, more or less aware that he was a third wheel. Simone was making her brother comfortable

Patrick clambered down the stairs, a careless curse on his lips. "It looks about to rain. Guess we'll be spending the night." It was a bunker, nothing for it but to make themselves comfortable as well. He eyed Simone as she presumably took her leave of Rasmus. She came out, pulling off the mask.

* * *

"Simone?" He reached out, searching for the familiar form of her. He came up empty. Martin opened his eyes, panic surging through his veins, the jolt driving sleep away. He sat up, widening his range of pursuit. She was at the end of the room, leaning against the table. She looked at him, an unspoken question in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Couldn't sleep," she explained, stepping over the still-slumbering Patrick. Careful of her drink, she sat down on the thin mattress. "Thought this might help." He didn't dare voice his relief, but something about the way she stared at him indicated she'd seen it regardless.

* * *

"Was there someone before the rain?" His hand froze mid-motion. Martin held Simone's gaze. Why such a question, out of nowhere? He couldn't very well betray her trust by not answering honestly.

"Before I enrolled, I had a girlfriend." It was the first place he'd run off to. Simone's trusting gaze urged him on. "The rain–I found her in front of her house. Dead for some time from the looks of it." The decayed carcass had barely resembled her. "Her image is fuzzy now." Simone looked as though she understood. Her hand landed upon his shoulder.

Not for the first time, he wondered about her life before the rain.

* * *

It was a very small community. More village than town. Many would have fled to the cities to starve or die, however God ordained. They filed into the small home they'd found. The first intact one. The roof would protect them well enough.

Martin pushed one of the three doors before them open. It led into what looked to be a living room of sorts. "Rasmus, this is yours." The boy walked into the room. He looked about, half-curious, half-numb. Deciding that was a good enough reaction, he left Rasmus to it.

"Everything's clear," Lea called out from somewhere behind them.

* * *

The Strangers had been suspiciously absent of late. Likely as not they were still being monitored; but the fact that they'd remained unmolested for so long was bound to spell greater turmoil. Everything that could go wrong, would go wrong, after all. Inevitably.

"You're brooding again," Jean broke him out of his trance. "Poor Simone. I'll give her my condolences as soon as we've returned."

"Shut the hell up." The lack of bite behind the words lessened their impact.

Jean laughed. He wished Patrick would deck him. Alas, that one remained behind as they scouted ahead. "Hurry up already, unless you mean to sleep in the rain."

* * *

"This should be the last one." Simone worked on optimising the conditions from the tablet.

Out of all the bunkers that had been built, most were not in use. It was to their advantage, for they could easily find food and other necessities in such places, but it made little sense. Apollon would surely have planned ahead. To find so many of them masterless was disconcerting.

"How's that food supply looking?" he called loudly, making sure Jean and Lea heard him.

"Blessedly undisturbed. Not even a package missing."

"Relax, Martin. We're safe for now."

If only he were able to, he would happily do so.

* * *

"It could be another experiment." It hadn't been easy confiding in her. That she took it in with such calm was more than he'd expected. "I wouldn't put anything beyond them at this point." She sighed. "They would have a hard time getting in though." She held out her hand. "It's raining too. They won't take the risk tonight, so come to bed."

He complied. Simone draped an arm over his middle, pressing tightly against him before relaxing her hold. Martin breathed in through his nose. He wasn't nearly tired enough to sleep just yet. She was awake too by the way she shifted restlessly.

* * *

"Just look the other way." He must have been thinking long and hard about it. Martin drummed his fingers against the tabletop. "It'll be less dangerous without me here."

"Why now all of a sudden?" So far, none of them had succumbed to the virus. Martin wished he could say he trusted they wouldn't in the future either.

"Does it matter?" And they'd risked their life for him. He missed the smoke he'd not had in years. His drew his fingers in a fist.

"Even to me." Things had been so much simpler before. "If you go, you'll have us chasing after you along with the Strangers."


End file.
